


Five's a Crowd (to say nothing of the dog)

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Canadian Shack, Established Relationship, F/M, Fic, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not exactly the romantic getaway Neal had hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five's a Crowd (to say nothing of the dog)

"Um." Neal pushed open the creaky-hinged door to the shack and peered into the gloomy interior. It smelled of dust and old pine needles, and very faintly of gun powder. He pivoted on the spot and looked at his boyfriend, who was getting their bags from the trunk of the rental car. "Clinton? I know I said I wanted a change of scenery when the tracker came off, and I know I wasn't specific about the _type_ of scenery, but I have to tell you, I was thinking more Rome or Paris, and less Ye Olde Canadian Rustic."

"Trust me," said Clinton. "It's going to be great." He shouldered past Neal, dumped his own rucksack and Neal's calfskin suitcase on the unfinished wooden floor and went to open the mottled curtains.

"I'm _trying_ to trust you," said Neal, as light seeped through the dirty windows. "Despite the many evident reasons not to." He followed Clinton inside, wincing when his 100% cashmere scarf brushed against the doorframe and became irreparably snagged. At the sound of tires in the yard, he looked back out through the open door. "I also thought it would be just the two of us."

A few seconds later, Mozzie stomped inside. "This is a covert spy base, isn't it? No, don't bother denying it. Is it American or Canadian? Not that it matters. I refuse to stay here, on principle."

"Mozzie, you have to stay," said Elizabeth, following him in. "I'm counting on you to beat Peter at mahjong."

"It's not a spy base," said Clinton. He was standing in one corner, watching the growing chaos with apparent amusement.

Mozzie hesitated, poised for flight. "Well—I'd have to sweep the place for bugs."

"You brought your cleaning equipment?" Elizabeth didn't look as surprised as she would have a few years earlier.

"Of course," said Mozzie. Five minutes later he'd completed the third bedroom. "It's clean. Fine. In that case, I'll stay so long as there aren't any rats."

"If there are rats, Satchmo will root them out," said Peter. "Are you done in here?" He took his and Elizabeth's bags into the bedroom by the kitchen. Satchmo ran ahead of him, sniffing everything excitedly.

"When are Diana and Christie due to arrive?" Elizabeth called after him.

"Tomorrow afternoon," he called back. "Christie had to work the night shift. Where did you put Satchmo's water bowl?"

Elizabeth disappeared into the bedroom after him, and Neal eyed Clinton reproachfully. "It could have been romantic, just the two of us."

Clinton pulled him close and kissed him, and Neal put his hands on Clinton's waist, wishing they were alone. He'd even be prepared to sacrifice his best wool coat to the floor if that were the only way to get Clinton horizontal. But Clinton kept the embrace relatively chaste, ending the kiss and leaning his forehead against Neal's. "We're here to celebrate your freedom," he said, "and they all want to celebrate it too."

"Mozzie," said Elizabeth, emerging from the bedroom behind them. "Where did you put the wine?"

"I packed the Merlot in my bag, but the champagne and the Sauvignon Blanc are still in the car," Mozzie called from the tiny single bedroom in the corner. His voice was suspiciously muffled. "With the caviar and smoked salmon."

Neal raised his head. "Smoked salmon?"

"You didn't think they'd put me in charge of catering, did you?" said Clinton with a grin.

"I had resigned myself to tuna fish sandwiches," said Neal. He removed his hat and threw it with unerring accuracy onto the peg by the door. "But now I'm becoming reconciled to a party."


End file.
